


Cast Your Light Upon This Man

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Game of Thrones AU, Lannister!Enjolras, M/M, Red Priest!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras Lannister is trying to escape his name and family when he meets Grantaire, a priest of R'hllor, the Red God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cast Your Light Upon This Man

The fact that the villagers hated him was obvious but Enjolras didn't care as he rode through the town, looking around him sadly. What the commoners took for arrogance was actually compassion, what they saw as just one of many bags of gold was all he had left in the world.

Seeing the children crouched behind a wall Enjolras jumped down from his horse, leading it over and smiling at them. "Here," he said softly, pulling a loaf from his saddlebag and holding it out to them. It was his last piece of food but he could find more, whereas they were obviously starving.

"If you think feeding a couple of brats will make the people like you any more, you're sadly wrong," a voice said from behind him, and Enjolras turned to see a man leaning against the nearest building.

"I do not expect them to like me," he told him, walking past him and back onto the main road.

"Yes you do," the stranger laughed, following. "You're a Lannister."

"Lannisters do not want to be liked," Enjolras corrected. "They want to be feared. Well, bar Courfeyrac. He wants to be liked. Loved if possible." He paused. "And there just went any chance I had of pretending I was not one of them."

"Pretty much." The man studied him carefully, looking him up and down. "You must be Enjolras Lannister. I've heard a lot about you."

Enjolras gritted his teeth. "You have me at a disadvantage sir. You know my name, but I have yet to learn yours."

"Oh I'm no ser," he replied, once he'd finished laughing. "I'm Grantaire." The name sounded familiar but Enjolras couldn't place it. Deciding that one of his father or brother's noble friends probably shared the name, he thought no more of it but continued walking, trying to ignore the man as he kept up easily. "So why is a Lannister at the Inn of the Kneeling Man? Not like you to share the same air as us commoners."

"I am a Lannister no longer."

"And I am King of Westeros." Grantaire shook his head. "You cannot throw away a name like that. Not possible, at least not with your hair. It's obvious who you are from the second people see you."

Enjolras had to admit he was right. "Then I wish I were Lannister no longer," he said bitterly.

"They won't believe that." Grantaire indicated the villagers who were gathering, staring at the nobleman walking in their midst. "You're a fool to come here. The Tullys are no friends to the Lannisters, haven't been for many years, and you are too close to Riverrun for safety."

"I will not be around for long. I am headed North."

Grantaire laughed. "That's an even worse idea. What are you, the fool of the Lannisters? Were you born with any brains whatsoever? The Northerners hate you worse than the Tullys."

"I am a Lannister!" Enjolras snapped, stopping and glaring at him. "I have no friends anywhere, bar those my father or I have bought. All I want is to get away from my family and all that is connected to them. Where else am I meant to go?"

"So what, you're going to take the Black? Because that is the only way to truly avoid anything to do with the name Lannister. That is the only place where they won't just see you as some blonde haired cunt."

Letting go of his horse for a moment Enjolras punched him, turning, grabbing the bridle and setting off again before Grantaire had even hit the ground, teeth grinding furiously as he left the town.

"You pack quite a punch," he heard a few minutes later and he glanced back to see Grantaire following again, rubbing at his jaw ruefully. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that."

"Call me it again and you will have more than my fist to deal with," Enjolras warned. "Do you not have a home and wife to be getting back to?"

"As if anyone would marry me. No, I'm a confirmed bachelor. Surely you have some fancy woman planned though." He grinned. "Is she why you ran? Not pretty enough for you?"

"She was certainly pretty," Enjolras admitted, wondering why he was even still talking to Grantaire. "And rich. Too rich. All she cared about was her face and hair and dresses, which knight had won which tourney, who had danced with who at the latest dance, etc, etc. I wanted to help the people, to go riding each day to give money and food to those who needed it most. Plus I do not love her, and I refuse to marry someone I do not love."

"Who was she?"

"Mehreena of Dorne."

"Hence why you are headed North not South," Grantaire guessed correctly. He walked alongside Enjolras silently for a while before looking over at the blonde again. "Why haven't you started riding yet? You could have left me behind ages ago. Is my company really so enjoyable?"

"It is preferable to riding alone," Enjolras murmured, so quiet his companion almost didn't hear him.

"Are you really heading up to take the Black?" Grantaire asked finally.

Enjolras shook his head. "No. It is an honourable cause, and I have nothing but respect for all those who take the vow, but it is not for me. I want to help the people. To stop children from starving in the gutter of every town, to make sure every man has the money to live and feed his family. This country has too many rich nobles when so many starve to death daily, and my family is worse than most."

"So you wish to serve the Realm."

Enjolras smiled lightly. "I had a friend always said he was one of the few left who served the Realm instead of a single man or family."

"Had?"

His smile faltered and he sighed. "I have not spoken to him for a while. The last few ravens he sent did not sound like him. I am worried they got to him. Every man has something he fears or someone he loves enough that it can be used against him, even one who is not from this country."

"Your friend is Lord Combeferre?"

Enjolras stopped and stared at Grantaire. "How does a commoner from a small village near Riverrun know enough about the people of court to know who I mean?"

Grantaire hesitated before bowing low. "I am Grantaire of Myr, a red priest of R'hllor, the Lord of Light. I spent many years at court, since just before Robert took the throne, and left about two years ago to travel the country." He looked Enjolras up and down again. "From the looks of you, I left just before you were introduced to court. How old are you anyway? Sixteen, seventeen?"

"Twenty-two," Enjolras said stiffly. "Father decided my political leanings would be better off hidden away at Casterley Rock."

The priest laughed loudly. "Aye, I can see that. So, might I ask the pleasure of keeping you company a while longer? I've seen all I like of the South for now, and the North is a place of mystery."

"You will want a horse and warmer clothes before we head truly North," Enjolras warned. "I have heard they have summer snows up there."

"That they do, but it's all part of the adventure young lord. Though I will certainly get a horse next inn we come to. I'd hate for you to have to walk for much longer because of me."

"Do you know how far it is to the next inn?"

Grantaire grinned and didn't answer, letting them round the next bend on the track instead.

"Here it is young lord," he said grandly, waving his hand at it.

"Do not call me that!"

Grantaire laughed. "Give me a few, I'll pick up a horse and we can move on."

Enjolras waited uncomfortably outside the inn until Grantaire emerged from the stables, leading a grey mare over to join him again. "Ready milord," he smiled and Enjolras shook his head despairingly as he climbed onto his horse.

"Please do not call me that," he repeated, more softly this time. "I no longer wish to be recognised as a lord. Technically I never was one."

"Then you'll need to speak less like one," Grantaire replied as they set off. "I can teach you if you want."

"I would appreciate that."

The red priest grinned. "'I'd'. None of this 'I would' and 'do not' crap."

"But that does not feel right."

Grantaire sighed. "I can tell this is going to take a while."

* * *

"I could get used to having a companion," Grantaire commented a few hours later.

"Well, it seems to have given you someone to prattle on at," Enjolras muttered. "Which poor bastard was stuck with you before?"

"No-one. I talked to myself"

"First sign of madness."

Grantaire laughed bitterly. "No, the first sign of madness is believing in something."

The blonde frowned over at his companion. "But you are a priest. You believe in a god."

"I was sold by my father to the priests. Too many kids, couldn't feed them. I went there, my brother was sent to a ship, my sister to a whore house. He kept the oldest four, the two girls to keep house, the two boys to work and bring in money."

"That's terrible!"

"That's life in the Free Cities. Everybody is free to be sold into slavery."

Enjolras stopped his horse and glared over at Grantaire. "And that is what I mean to change in this world," he said firmly. "No man should be forced into slavery."

"One country at a time, young lord." Grantaire turned his mare to face the other man. "We should stop for the night. It's growing dark and there's an inn nearby."

"Do you know the location of every inn in the seven kingdoms?"

"Only those between here and King's Landing."

* * *

In the next fortnight the pair grew almost friendly. On nights when they couldn't find an inn to stay in Grantaire would build a fire, always trying (and failing) to teach Enjolras as he did so. Enjolras used his bow to hunt them food on those days, and Grantaire skinned and cooked it.

"They teach you that at the house of R'hllor?" Enjolras demanded the first time he watched.

"My sister." Grantaire threw a rabbit over, laughing as the Lannister fumbled and dropped it. "Watch, and copy. Be useful for once."

"Useful? I caught the blasted thing!"

"Aye, but you can't eat it without me."

On nights when they stopped at inns Enjolras would buy them dinner whilst Grantaire sang to earn them more money. They spent money sparingly so shared one bed, Grantaire always keeping a respectful distance which soon disappeared as Enjolras snuggled into his side once asleep, chasing the warmth of the other man.

"People will talk," Grantaire teased the first morning in an attempt to hide his awkwardness.

"Let them," was the only reply.

After three nights in a row sleeping rough, Grantaire couldn't help but laugh at the tangle Enjolras's hair had become.

"No-one could mistake you for a Lannister now," he smiled, tugging gently at the mess. "It's barely blonde. More mud-coloured than anything else."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "You're hilarious," he said sarcastically. "We should move on."

"Why are you so determined to reach the North as soon as possible? Is my company so awful?" The questions came as Grantaire was packing away their belongings and Enjolras prepared the horses.

"We're hardly moving fast," Enjolras replied. "In fact, we've been travelling incredibly slowly for two men on horses. That would suggest your company is at least mildly pleasurable."

"Ooh, hear that lads? His company is pleasurable." A man carrying sword in hand stepped out of the trees and both men froze, hands hovering over their own weapons. "Maybe we should find out ourselves."

"Go fuck yourself," Grantaire hissed, twisting to look at the four men entering the clearing behind them.

"No." The man looked him up and down. "Gotta admit, you don't look like much, but it's been a while since any of us had a woman, so I suppose you'll do."

At that Enjolras drew his sword. "You won't get anywhere near him," he warned.

"Maybe we should try you then," one of the others suggested, circling nearer to the blonde. "You look pretty enough."

Grantaire's sword was suddenly in his hand as well, and he stepped between Enjolras and the man. "Fuck off," he snarled. "You're not touching either of us."

The first man to appear whistled, and they all attacked at once. Spinning so his back was to Grantaire's, Enjolras kicked out at the first man to approach him, swinging his sword at the second. The third's thrust was dodged and so the man went off-balance and stumbled forwards, Enjolras taking the opportunity to elbow him in the back of the head. He didn't dare risk a glance to see how Grantaire was doing, instead offering up a quick prayer to the Warrior as he defended himself yet again. Knowing he was wasting energy constantly dodging, Enjolras decided to attempt an attack and so lunged at the third man as he picked himself up. His sword went through the man's neck, and Enjolras shuddered as he tugged it out again, the spray of blood that followed covering his head. He was still trying to wipe it from his eyes when the other men attacked together. Fighting both blindly and desperately, it was more luck than skill that he slew another. Finally blinking the last drops of blood from his eyes, Enjolras was focusing on the last man facing him when he felt the knife enter his back.

"Fuck!" he heard someone yell in the background, the voice familiar but he couldn't put a name to it, his mind instead stuck on the blade lodged deep inside him. _It hurts_ , he thought dumbly, not even noticing as he fell to his knees and swayed, face hitting the ground moments later. _Ow_ , he thought, trying to push himself back up again and swearing silently when nothing would move. Slowly his mind registered that the knife must have hit something important.

Behind him, Grantaire had gone mad. The second the knife had entered the blonde's back he'd killed the one holding it, sword swinging round to bite into the last living man moments later, not bothering to pull the blade free again. He was down on his knees next to Enjolras soon after he'd fallen, pulling the Lannister into his arms and yanking the knife out. "No," he whispered, stroking the hair off his face and staring down into the blue eyes, even paler than normal. "Don't you fucking dare." Enjolras didn't reply, just coughed, blood covering his lips.

Grantaire knew the moment he died, body going still in his arms and blank eyes staring at a point over his shoulder. "No!" he muttered again, cradling the dead man close, hand tangling in his hair. He found himself saying the words in desperation, not caring that he hadn't believed in years. "Lord cast your light upon this man, your servant. Bring him back from death and darkness. His flame has been extinguished, restore it!" He repeated them over and over, voice that bit hoarser each time until he finally gave in. "I would have believed in you," he whispered into Enjolras's hair, lips pressing against his forehead afterwards.

"Huh?" came the mumbled reply and Grantaire dropped the man, he was so shocked. "Ow, fuck! What in seven hells Grantaire?!"

"You're alive," Grantaire whispered, staring down into the familiar eyes.

"No shit," Enjolras muttered, attempting to push himself up on his elbows and swearing when he realised he hadn't the strength. "What happened?" he groaned. "My back is in agony."

"You were killed," Grantaire said quietly, eyes wide as he stared at his friend. "You were dead, stabbed in the back by that bastard."

"Than how in seven hells am I still alive?" the blonde demanded.

"I prayed to the Red God and he answered."

"You don't even believe in your god."

Grantaire's words were so quiet Enjolras barely heard them. "I didn't know what else to do."

Trying to sit up again, Enjolras grit his teeth and forced himself up, grabbing onto Grantaire's sleeve to help. "You should stay down a while longer," Grantaire said quickly but the blonde shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, glaring the red priest down as he opened his mouth to argue. "It's stopping hurting already."

"Liar," Grantaire muttered, but he raised his hands in surrender at the next glare he received. "We're not moving on today though. Well, only to an inn. I want to inspect your back."

* * *

The innkeeper had given them a strange look as they'd entered the room, Grantaire clearly supporting Enjolras. "Bandits," the priest had said as explanation, and next thing he knew the man's wife was pulling Enjolras away and into one of the bedrooms, ignoring all their protests and talking about inspecting the wound.

"We'll hopefully only be here a night," Grantaire told the innkeep, holding out some coins.

"Did you kill those bastards?" the man asked, and Grantaire nodded. "Then you stay for free. They have terrorised us for a while now."

"Thank you," Grantaire said with a small smile. "I should go make sure my friend is okay."

"Will you tell this cursed woman I'm fine!" Enjolras demanded as soon as Grantaire was in the bedroom.

"He's fine," he reassured the wife with a smile. "They barely caught him, it was just enough to aggravate an old wound."

"Well, if you're sure," she said, frowning at them both as she backed out of the room.

"We need to talk," Enjolras said the second the door was shut behind you. "About today."

"The Red God protected you and brought you back," Grantaire said quickly. "That's how your back healed so fast."

"That miracle is not why we need to talk. You said you didn't know what else to do. You prayed to a god you don't believe in in an attempt to bring me back. You-" Enjolras sighed. "I felt you kiss me. My forehead."

"I thought you were dead," Grantaire said honestly. "Hell, you were dead. You are my only friend, Enjolras. I enjoy your company. I prayed because it seemed like the thing to do. I've been with the priests since I was ten. When a man dies, you speak the words. This is the first time I've heard of them actually working."

"And the kiss?"

Grantaire smiled bitterly. "If you need to ask, I'm not answering."

"We're both men," Enjolras said uncertainly.

"Never stopped Lord Joly or Ser Jehan."

"It's unnatural."

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "That's your father speaking."

"People will talk."

"You're a Lannister running away to the North whilst accompanied by a Red Priest from across the Narrow Sea. People talk anyway."

An awkward silence fell, both men standing in their sides of the room, until eventually Grantaire sighed. "Forgot it," he started to say, but Enjolras interrupted.

"Since when?"

"Well, it's hard to stay impartial when faced with looks like yours," Grantaire attempted to joke.  "And then when you open your mouth… It's all 'help the people' this, and 'serve the realm' that. It's so different to every other bastard in this country. You're passionate about things no other nobleman cares about. And then there's you yourself. Not your looks, not your beliefs, but your character." He smiled a sad smile. "You're not difficult to fall in love with, Enjolras, and hard to stay clear-headed about it when you're pressing up against me every night."

"You're warm," Enjolras muttered, not meeting his companion's eyes.

"The fire of the Red God, as my old teacher would say."

"Tell me about your Red God," Enjolras said quickly, seizing the chance to change the subject. "Seeing as how he apparently saved me, I should at least know something about him."

Grantaire's eyes showed his disappointment, but he spoke all the same, teaching Enjolras the basics of his religion.

* * *

That night Grantaire hesitated before climbing into the bed next to Enjolras, keeping a larger distance than normal as he remembered their earlier conversation.

"Oh for the sake of all the gods," Enjolras muttered, looping an arm round Grantaire's waist and pulling him closer. "It's fucking freezing with you over there."

He couldn't help but relax into the embrace, and with a familiar warmth behind his back he fell asleep faster than ever.

When he woke they'd switched positions. Enjolras fitted snugly in his arms, Grantaire noted sleepily, to say he was taller.

"Mmm," the blonde sighed, snuggling further into the hold. "I could get used to this."

Smiling sadly, Grantaire resisted the urge to pull Enjolras closer yet, flush against him, instead rested his forehead against his hair. _Same_ , he thought.

"I've never been with anyone," Enjolras said suddenly, and Grantaire was instantly awake. "Male or female."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally.

"All my life I was brought up that a man had to grow up and marry the woman chosen for him, that you shouldn't sleep with whores or indeed any woman you weren't wed to, that to lie with a man was unnatural." Wriggling round, Enjolras managed to roll so he was still in Grantaire's arms but now facing him. "I want to though."

"Your Septons would disapprove."

"My Septons have never given prove of the Seven. Your god though… He brought me back. What does your god have to say about it all?"

Grantaire looked him in the eye. "Desire is just desire. There's nothing sinful about it."

"Then fuck the Seven." Closing the gap between them Enjolras kissed the older man, hands fisting in his hair. As he pulled away again Grantaire chuckled.

"Is that your first kiss?" he asked, ignoring Enjolras's glare and placing a hand over his mouth to stop his retort. "We'll just have to work on it," he whispered, moving his hand to kiss Enjolras again.


End file.
